I, a delicate Pittsburgh flahr, simply do not have the constitution for this weather.
In my 20s and 30s, I adored stifling hot weather. The hotter the better. The more humid the better. My favorite days were those of summer when Joe DeNardo’s forecast was “hazy, hot and humid.” I understand you are probably recalculating your respect for me, but it’s true. I loved going outside and feeling my lungs burn a little with each intake of muggy air.
Now? With each passing year I find my preferred daily high temperature drops a few degrees; the math of that works out to my current preferred high temperature sitting at about 73 degrees. By the time I’m 70, I expect to be happily sitting naked on a iceberg off Newfoundland. After sunset yesterday, when the temperature was still 87 and humidity was 187%, I took my dogs for a walk in air that can only be described as having the atmospheric properties of a King Kong fart.
Hot. Steamy. Stagnant. Miserable.
This is not okay. I know because the whole time we were walking, my skin, my sizzling eyeballs and my dogs screamed at me, “Hey, lady! This is not okay! We are dying here!”
My son recently moved back home after completing flight school in Florida where he resided in Daytona Beach for 18 months and flew small planes that had no AC. A few days ago he said to me, “What the hell is a high heat advisory? This is nothing.”
He may be 21, but I sent him to his room. In this house, we do not stand for anything over 85 degrees.
Let’s get to it! Speaking of hot, steamy weather …
1. “Hot enough for y—“ [SLAP]
This weather is poop, but historically it has been even poopier, to use the scientifically correct meteorologic terminology. For instance, in August of 1918 it reached over 103 degrees in the city of Pittsburgh. However, at the time, unofficial thermometer readings had the temperature reaching—thy butts. Find them. Grasp them.
What in the actual fires of hell.
Now, officially, based on readings taken from the weather center at the top of the Oliver Building by Pittsburgh’s chief forecaster Henry Pennywitt, who served in this capacity for 17 years, it reached 103.2 degrees at 3:30 or 4:15 p.m., depending on which newspaper you believe got the time correct.
First, yes, Pennywitt would be an excellent name for a butler in that murder mystery you’re writing. Second, I am not lying or exaggerating when I say that Pittsburghers used to blame Pennywitt for the weather. I mean, they’d get actually angry at him. His name would even appear in advertisements from local shops selling clothing all Hey listen, if Pennywitt finally gives us some good weather, you are going to look so stylish in these super cute duds.
The best part is that the papers would interview Pennywitt and he’d pull out his books and be like LISTEN. I do not control the weather. This is science. I can show you. And they’d be like, Sounds like something someone who secretly controls the weather would say.*
Look at these headlines from 1907 and 1909:
You better believe my new band name AND future grave stone epitaph is Pittsburgh’s Apostle of Sunshine.
On that record-breaking day in 1918, the regular thermometers at street level were showing as high as 120 degrees and people were indeed just dropping in the street. A call to ration the use of ice was put out by the city as there was a dangerous shortage.
The Pittsburgh Post printed this little rhyming plea to Pennywitt on their front page the day after the record fell:
At any rate, the previous record high occurred on July 10, 1881, when Pittsburgh reached 103 degrees officially; unofficially, the Post recorded 107 in the shade and the Gazette reported 113 degrees near a bridge over the Allegheny. People, work horses such as trolley horses, and even hogs were dropping in the street and dying from heat stroke.
So I guess I’ll shut up about a measly 94 degrees. I hate when my kid is right. But he’s still grounded to his room while I languish on my deck.
Pennywitt, fetch me a frozen margarita.
*And here we are in 2024 with people actually believing weather manipulation is a thing. Again, the stupidest time to be alive.
2. The Yinzer King of Onotamonapeia Ontamontapeia Onomatopoeia
It’s like trying to spell diaraheah right on the first try, am I right? Couldn’t even get it close enough for spell check to figure it out. Anyway, speaking of weather, again…
Thanks to Mikey from KISS 96.1 FM, we have the latest greatest yinzer interview by way of WPXI in a report about the intense storms we’ve been having this week.
Strip District knockoff Cutch jersey: check!
Pirates hat: check!
Mullet: check!
Yinzer accent: check!
The best part is that the interview subject attempts to recreate the horrifying weather sounds he heard as lightning and wind raged around his home. Highlights: “WHOOOSH! PSHHHH! POW!”
Here’s a little gif I made of the best part of his magic show:
Abracadabra, n’at. Go watch the whole 13 seconds of yinzer glory. It’s not a stereotype if it’s true.
Never change, Pittsburgh. It’s what Pennywitt would have wanted.
3. Professor Montanez gives a pop quiz
Here’s a quick one-question pop quiz for you, and don’t be put off by the appearance of numbers; no math is involved. I’m not a demon.
Q: How many plumbers does the city of Pittsburgh employ to maintain their drinking fountains, public toilets and other such plumbing?
a. 1 b. 32 c. 11 d. 6
The answer, insanely, is a.
One.
Pittsburgh City Council on Tuesday rushed to pass legislation that will allow the city to contract with more plumbers who can help turn on drinking fountains, maintain public bathrooms and handle other plumbing work that currently falls to the city’s sole plumber.
Hell, even Pennywitt, ensconced in his high lair atop the Oliver building, had three assistants! And weather radar hadn’t even been invented yet! And here in 2024, we have one dude running around the city trying to keep shit from doing shit-doing things like clogging toilets and hitting fans. Honestly amazing.
Imagine this dude at a neighborhood cookout. “What do you do?” “I’m the City of Pittsburgh’s plumber.” “Oh, cool, you’re a plumber for the city of Pittsburgh.” “No, my guy. I’m THE plumber for the City of Pittsburgh.”
What a flex. Here’s hoping they get him some help soon before it really does hit the fan.
4. The real story about how Pittsburgh “lost” her H
As I said to my students this Spring as we were covering the late 19th century in Pittsburgh, “Take a look at this. What do you notice?”
I chose this date at random. It’s two years before Pittsburgh supposedly lost her H and two of our major newspapers were spelling it with an H and two were spelling it without. Like me, you’ve likely been told that Pittsburgh lost her H in 1891 and got it back in 1911, and Pittsburghers were collectively upset when it was taken away and unanimously happy when it was returned.
What if I told you that no, no one actually ever took the H from our name? Not in an officially mandated capacity. What if I told you that we aren’t really even sure how Pittsburgh was originally spelled? What if I told you that the spelling of Pittsburgh wasn’t actually settled until like 1950? What if I told you that Jaromir Jagr asked me to marry him?
What? The first three are true.
I spent hours researching how Pittsburgh was first spelled, how it “lost” its H, and what happened when it “got it back.” The story is far messier and far more fun than the boring myth we’ve all been told. My latest column for Pittsburgh Magazine unpacks everything I learned and includes the little snippet that there was so much local disunity about the correct spelling of Pittsburgh, that it wasn’t unusual even years after it was supposedly changed to Pittsburg to find Kaufmann’s and Horne’s spelling it differently on the SAME PAGE OF THE NEWSPAPER. Such as this from one page in a 1902 edition of the Post-Gazette:
Kaufmann’s:
Horne’s:
That’s right, absolute madness.
Go read the column and you’ll see that the truth is an even better story than the false lore we keep celebrating each year on our H day. Screw that. Let’s celebrate the messiness of our history. The chaos. The infighting. The digging-in of heels. The snarky way the Pittsburg Dispatch took a victory lap when the Pennsylvania Railroad decided to drop the H from their official maps and timetables:
The shade. I love it. And wait until you read about what those jagoffs in Altoona did with our H.
5. Random n’at
Well this is concerning:
A void?? Excuse me … a void?? I don’t need to tell you that a sidewalk void is an unborn sinkhole, and pretty soon this void is going to be born and then will grow up to swallow a bus. No bueno!
Actor Jeremy Renner filmed a piece for the running shoe he wore during his rehab from his Sno-Cat accident, and it was filmed in Pittsburgh (where his show films), giving us shots like this:
Here’s the vid.
Revealed in this video? During the accident, his eyeball — ahem — vacated its socket. My goodness. (h/t Paul)
Trees that provide shade can lower the temperature of neighborhoods, and if you live in a Pittsburgh neighborhood, did you know that you can request that the city’s forestry division plant a free tree near your sidewalk to provide such future shade? Here’s the form to put in a request for them to come and see if your property is suitable. Homewood especially could use some trees.
Allegheny CleanWays has been kicking ass this spring and summer to get the city and county cleaned up of as much litter and illegal dumping as possible. We are talking actual TONS of trash they have cleaned up. As a member of their board’s development committee, I can tell you that they are doing important work and that they need as much volunteer help as possible. Please consider checking out their upcoming cleanups to find one that works for you to help out on.
Your regular reminder that my debut novel is equally perfect as a beach read or a book club pick. I’m still happy to visit book clubs this year, so email to get on my calendar! It’s holding at a 4.6 nicely on Goodreads and a 4.8 on Amazon. Give it a read!
7. Wrap up
That’s all for this week! Have a fantastic weekend! Be kind! Kill all lanternflies! Stop giving the radio and TV talkers who infuriate you the attention they so desperately crave! Come see my band! Don’t litter! Stay cool! Hot enough for y—
Pennywitt. An ice pack, if you please.